


The Perfect End to a Perfect Night

by bukkake_howell



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Fluff, Fluffy illness, M/M, Sick Fic, Sickness, Vomit, based on the classic date night selfie, but not too much??, descriptions of vomit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-25 19:20:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4973104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bukkake_howell/pseuds/bukkake_howell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Dan gets food poisoning and Phil has to take care of him. (Loosely based on the ye olde date night selfie? The restaurant, that is.)<br/>// Warning: vomit/descriptions of vomit. It isn't anything too descriptive, I just. Don't want anybody feeling bad as I know exactly how it feels, being v emetophobic myself. I'm surprised I could actually write this without having an anxiety attack. //</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Perfect End to a Perfect Night

**Author's Note:**

> this is really bad.  
> i put this off for so long and it isn't very good?
> 
> it's based off of a thing one of my friends prompted me.

“Come on, Dan! Our reservations are at nine!”  
Dan’s buttoning up the final button of his shirt when his boyfriend calls for him. At the Dan and Phil residence, it’s date night tonight. They’ve been anticipating this restaurant for quite a while now; about two months ago, to be precise. Being one of the nicest and most poshest restaurants in London, tables had to be saved months in advance, and tonight was the night. Dan, who’s been stood at the mirror in the bedroom, briskly walks out of said bedroom, adjusting his collar all the while. He continues down the hallway, meeting Phil in the livingroom. The older man is stood up against the sofa, clad in his own new shirt with a similar pattern to Dan’s. He looks up from his iPhone, smiling at Dan.  
“You look so handsome,” Phil compliments, bringing his palm up to Dan’s cheek.  
“You’re the one that should be talking.” Dan smirks, moving closer to his boyfriend. He snakes his arms around the older’s waist, catching his lips in a chaste but sweet kiss. Phil pulls back and gazes at Dan lovingly.  
“Ready to go?”  
“Yeah.”  
And with that, they’re off. The two grab their respective phones and wallets and Dan pockets the keys to the flat.  
The two walk out of said flat, taking the elevator down to walk to the tube station.  
They go through the process of making their way through the crowd and finding a spot to stand in the slightly less crowded car.

***** 

The atmosphere of the restaurant is definitely more sophisticated than the boxes of pizza and stir-fry Dan and Phil manage to throw together back at the flat. The interior is dimly lit, save for the warm glow of the red lanterns scattered amongst the ceiling and the candles set on every table. It’s gorgeous. The quiet chatter of the customers and employees fill the room; as expected, most of said customers are indeed couples. Some old, some young. Really the only similarity is that they’re all dressed in high-end, expensive designer brands.  
Dan and Phil, hand in hand, walk to the host’s stand; surely there aren’t any fans around, which is mostly why they chose this place.  
An average-height, dark haired girl dressed in a slick black blazer and slacks looks up from her paper and greets the slightly taller couple with a smile.  
“You guys have a reservation?” She questions rhetorically.  
“Yep, a table for two for Dan and Phil Lester?” Phil answers, squeezing Dan’s hand.  
The younger boy blushes at this. Phil could’ve reserved it under his own name, or even “Dan and Phil”, but the fact that he went with “Dan and Phil Lester” makes Dan grin and bashfully look at the ground.  
The hostess presses a few things on the screen in front of her.  
“Ah! Right this way.”  
They’re led to their seat, and Dan lets out an audible gasp at the sight.  
The table is next to the window that overlooks the city; the lights of the building twinkle and illuminate the sky, which has only just gone dark; The traffic and pedestrians below are micro-sized as they’re at the top of a building themselves. It’s all just breathtaking, and the strong urge to tackle and kiss his boyfriend overtakes Dan.  
“What- how did you manage to reserve this?” Dan gasps, eyes wide and in pleasant shock.  
Phil shrugs. “Planning?”  
The couple sits down, picking up the small menus that display the selection of cocktails, liquors, and wines.  
“I’ve never understood, why do places make more than one menu? Just put the drinks in the inside.” Phil jokes, playfully scowling at the half-sheet of paper in his hands.  
“Shall we buy a bottle of wine, Philip?” Dan mocks, pointing to a particularly expensive wine. Phil’s eyes widen.  
“Two HUNDRED dollars for a single bottle of wine?”  
“No, we could just buy two thirty dollar glasses of it.”  
The loving banter continues until their waitress comes, introduces herself, and asks what drinks she can bring the two; they each order a foofy cocktail. If the couple thought the drink menu was extravagantly expensive, the dinner menu was a hyper-intensified version; some of the entrees didn’t even have prices by them.  
“Holy shit, Phil! Look at this steak, it’s like seventy dollars.”  
“That’s nothing compared to this thirty dollar caesar salad!”  
“Then obviously you haven’t seen this shrimp appetizer thing, it’s like fifty dollars for five microshrimps.”  
The two try their best to keep their volume down in such an eccentric establishment, but they soon lose their composure and burst into a fit of giggles. They receive a few looks from some older customers, but don’t receive more than a glance from everybody else; everybody’s pretty much engrossed in their own conversations. After their laughter finally dies down and their faces are numb from smiling so much, Dan and Phil finally decide what they’re ordering.  
Phil decides it’s a great night to splurge on funds and goes with one of the pricey steaks; Dan, on the other hand, ditches his attempt at a month-long veganism and orders one of the less pricey (but still pricey nonetheless) seafood dishes.

And it’s all lovely; the food is succulent, the service is amazing, the restaurant itself is beautiful and well thought out. It’s truly a perfect candlelit date destination, TripAdvisor didn’t lie. 

They pay for the things they’ve bought and make their way out of the restaurant (after taking numerous pictures, of course)  
The two arrive back to the flat at around eleven PM with the intention of going to bed as they’re both surprisingly tired (“God, Phil, you’re already aging, wanting to go to bed so early!”.) And that’s just what they do.  
Dan’s pretty much positive that cuddling Phil is a perfect end to a perfect night.  
Or at least he thought so.

*****

It’s pitch black and most likely somewhere between two and four in the morning when Dan wakes up. At first he doesn’t realise he’s awake, the only thing he notices is the dull, sick feeling in his stomach.  
It takes a few minutes, but Dan pries his eyes open. He wants to go back to sleep, honestly, but when he’s fully conscious the nausea hits him in a way a boat would hit a wave; roughly and increasingly worse by the minute. He rolls over to his side, thinking that some way, some how it would diminish how crappy he feels. To his dismay, it doesn’t. At all. In fact, it just makes it worse. He’s completely out of Phil’s grip now, back turned to him and arms wrapped around his torso. Dan squeezes his eyes shut and makes an attempt to go to sleep. He’s began to break out in a cold, clammy sweat and his mouth is watering.  
But good old stubborn Dan refuses to pay attention to his symptoms.  
That is, until he’s forced to. The stomach acid is beginning to make its ascent up the boy’s throat and he’s snapped up in an instant. He jogs to the toilet, hand clamped over mouth, but his abrupt precaution helps nothing as he ends up loosing it but a foot from the toilet. Retching noises resonate through the hall first, and then a sickly sounding splatter follows. He walks the last twelve inches of the seemingly impossible journey and manages to finish his bout of vomiting into the bowl. He’s covered in sweat and his own puke and he’s began to cry. With ever fibre of his being, Dan really wishes in this moment that Phil wasn’t inevitably going to wake up and walk in on the situation he’s in. Dan’s helpless right now, he hates it when people see him at his worst. He’s lost in his thoughts of insecurity when another wave of nausea courses through him. He leans back over and vomits again, the stomach acid stronger; He’s basically dryheaving at this point.  
****  
Phil doesn’t hear Dan at first. Actually, he notices when the warmth that was once pressed up against him leaves, but in his half-awake state figures that his boyfriend’s gotten up to get more water or to have a wee and he falls right back asleep.  
He’s woken up once again after particularly loud coughs and retches fill the flat. He’s awake in an instant, grabbing his glasses off of the end table and padding across the room to turn the light on. The bedroom door is ajar, and when he steps out he’s glad he’s turned on the bedroom light; there’s puke splattered across the floor and he would’ve stepped all over it had he not turned it on. He switches the hallway light on as well, stepping over the puke and enters the bathroom. The light from the hallway shines through, but he turns the light on anyway to find a flushed, sweaty Dan with his head rested on the lid of the toilet. The brown haired boy closes his eyes and groans at the sudden brightness.

“Oh my god, Dan! Why didn’t you call for me?” Phil softly exclaims, his protective instincts kicking in. Dan shrugs, unable to properly speak as his throat was on fire and he was afraid that he’d start gagging again. Phil sinks to the ground and rubs reassuring circles into Dan’s back. Dan’s still trying to catch his breath, but the nausea is beginning to come back; he’s tightened up and gripped the side of the bowl again. He takes a deep breath and tries to throw up again, but it doesn’t work and he ends up dryheaving some more. It doesn’t help that his throat is raw. He really wants Phil to leave, but the older remains at his side through all the disgusting retching. Once Dan’s finally given up, Phil stands and retrieves a washcloth from the shelf. He wets it with warm water and wipes Dan’s mouth and eyes.  
“Do you want to go lay back down while I clean up?” Phil questions, tone soft. Dan can only nod and shakily stands up. Phil gently wraps an arm around him, flushing the toilet and leading him out of the bathroom. Dan’s completely capable of walking down a hallway by himself, but Phil isn’t having that, either.  
“Lay down, baby.” Phil whispers as they enter the bedroom. “I’ll be right back.”  
The first order of business is to clean up the hallway. Phil, who’s just very glad he isn’t fazed by vomit, finds the cleaning supplies and gets to work. It takes a bit of extra effort as he’s still a bit drowsy, but he’s managed to clean the carpet completely. He washes his hands and throws the rags in the washer before he goes to the kitchen; time to take care of Dan. He opens the cabinet underneath the sink and takes out the spare bin he keeps for these sort of situations. He double bags it with a couple leftover Tesco bags (honestly, who doesn’t hoard grocery bags?) and sets it aside to wet a washcloth and fill a glass of water. Phil gathers the supplies and turns off all the lights once more, coming back into their bedroom for the last time. He sets the water and bin aside, placing the folded cloth onto his boyfriend’s forehead, but he’s already fallen asleep. Oh well.

***** 

The second time Dan is awaken is because of the sun shining through the window. He opens his eyes, squinting at the unnecessary brightness. There’s but a few moments of peace as he realises that he’s indeed sick; there’s really only a dull ache in his stomach now, but it’s the sort of dull ache that you know will escalate.  
Phil, despite Dan’s illness, still has his arms draped across the sickly boy’s hips. Dan shifts from his side to his back, sitting up against the headboard as there’s no use in trying to get back to sleep now. He reaches for the nightstand on his right, grabbing his phone to check the time. 9:17. A bit early for him, but it explains the drowsiness as he’s most likely been asleep for an average of four hours.  
As expected, his stomach begins to churn once more. Great. He figures there’s no use in staying in bed this time, seeing as the last time he tried to do that he left a puke-covered hallway for Phil to clean up.  
Dan pulls back the duvet, stepping out of bed and padding down the hallway to the bathroom. Once he gets there, he closes the door and sits down on the floor next to the toilet. Dan wraps his arms around himself as his stomach churns once more, scooting closer to the bowl; he braces himself for another round of retching.  
This is when he realises that he’s preparing for a wrong kind of sick.

*****

Phil wakes up, somehow feeling okay for the amount of sleep he’s gotten. He went to bed later than Dan as he had to clean up and take care of his sick boyfriend, but he’s not immobilized by fatigue. He sits up, stretching his legs and arms out and yawning. This is when HE realises that Dan isn’t in bed; he’s surprised that he isn’t completely knocked out. He peers over the side of the bed; the bin he left for Dan is empty. He supposes that’s good, but the water is also left untouched. Phil steps out of the bed and into the hallway, immediately noticing that the door to the bathroom is closed. Oh dear. He hesitantly knocks on it.  
“Dan, babe, are you okay?” Pause.

“No,” Dan whimpers from the other side of the door.  
“Uh, do you need me to get you anything?”  
“No.”  
“Alright, just shout if you need me.”

Phil, too awake to go back to sleep, decides to prepare himself a cup of coffee while he waits for Dan. About ten minutes later, Dan emerges from the bathroom. Phil’s sat on the couch watching some random show with a cup of coffee when he comes in. He looks up when he hears Dan enter the lounge.

“Good morning, love.”  
Dan wordlessly walks over to the couch, cuddling into Phil by wrapping his arms around him and burying his head into his shoulder.  
“Are you feeling alright?” Phil asks, wrapping his free arm around his boyfriend.  
“A bit better than I did last night, I guess.” Dan answers, voice muffled from Phil’s tee shirt.  
“Did you throw up this morning?”  
“No. I was- sick out of the other end?”  
Phil sets down his coffee and puts his other arm around Dan, being careful not to put too much pressure on his tummy. They sit in a pleasant silence, the only thing making any noise being the television in the background; Phil’s rubbing small circles into Dan’s back when the silence is broken.  
“Hey, Phil?”  
“Yeah?”  
“Let’s never eat at that restaurant again.”


End file.
